Measure of a man
by lisadawes
Summary: If there's one thing Dutch knew for certain in life was that Arthur Morgan would never betray him. So why was he running with the O'Driscolls? Rated K for violence. Takes place during 'Blessed are the Peacekeepers'. Minor spoilers up to Chapter 4 of the game. Story concluded!
1. Too late to rescue

PART ONE

Arthur was hanging upside down, with a bullet in his shoulder. But as far as botched-up missions from Dutch went, he had dealt with worse.

It seemed at the time Colm O'Driscoll had wanted to talk about some kind of truce. Arthur didn't buy it. It smelled like a trap. He planned to tell Dutch a hundred times he was right as soon as he escaped. What he didn't count on was the fact that the trap was for _him_, not Dutch. And now he had been captured, shot, and dragged back to O'Driscoll's camp.

And to add to the fun, Colm had just entered the basement, a plate of food in one hand and gabbing about what he planned to do with him.

"Now tell me…fine gun like you, why are you still hanging around with old Dutch? Could come with me and make some real money."

"It ain't about the money, Colm."

"Ah, no. It's Dutch's famous charisma." Colm gave him a grin full of dirty teeth. "But rumor has it that's been in short supply lately. After that little fiasco in Blackwater." Colm started to pace. "You see, I know things, Arthur. I keep my ear to my ground. I hear plenty of things about you. And most of your gang, in fact. But the one person I hear almost nothing about is Dutch Van Der Linde. It used to be that I would hear about him all the time. But now, it seems that he's hiding in camp and letting you lot do the rest of the work. Maybe he's afraid. Or maybe he's just lazy."

Arthur coughed, ignoring the twist of uncertainty that hurt more sharply than any bullet Colm could give him. "Or maybe you're just a stinking liar."

Colm pushed him forward. "I figure that having you trapped here would be enough to get Dutch riding here. Maybe even tonight. And when he comes to rescue you, the law is going to be ready, and snatch up his whole gang. But on the off chance that he doesn't…if he's too yellow bellied to come here, I'll kill you myself."

Colm lowered himself down to meet Arthur's eyes. "But before that happens, Arthur, you'll know what type of man Dutch truly is."

PART TWO

The entire camp was on edge with Arthur's disappearance. It wasn't a simple matter of someone walking away from camp for a few days, which had been known to happen to just about everyone. No, Dutch, Arthur and Micah had gone to see Colm O'Driscoll to parley, much to everyone's shock. Arthur had gone to a cliffside to watch their back, while the rest talked to Colm. Colm had exchanged a few tense threats before abruptly leaving. At first, it didn't make any sense to Dutch.

Until Dutch had returned to the rendezvous site, and only found Arthur's rifle. The message had been clear. Arthur had been taken.

Dutch had delivered the grim news once he returned to camp. Everyone was worried, but certain that Arthur would be rescued that very night.

But instead, they waited. And waited. For two weeks.

"What the hell is the hold up, Dutch?" Hosea finally exploded in Dutch's tent.

Dutch looked up from his book and gave him a murderous glare. "Like I said, we don't know where Arthur is. We don't know where their camp is. And going into Colm's base without a plan is suicidal."

"So…have Charles sniff around! Have a few of us make a few inquires in Valentine! For God's sake, Dutch, let us do something before it's too late!" Hosea pleaded.

Dutch stood. "Valentine is swarming by both the O'Driscolls and the law! I want Arthur back too, but I am not risking anyone by going back there! No, I have made a few inquires myself with the Greys and soon we will have answers. Have faith, Hosea. Colm's plan of revenge hinges on Arthur being alive. Arthur is no use to them dead."

"If it were any one of us, Arthur would have us rescued in a heartbeat," Hosea said.

A flash of something, guilt perhaps, flashed in his eyes. But then it was gone. "Micah would disagree."

A sudden gunshot fired before the argument could continue. "O'Driscolls!" Sean shouted out.

Both men exited the tent and could see at least ten men on horseback rising through the camp. "Looks like they got tired of waiting, Dutch!" Hosea swore, taking out his gun.

"Everyone get in formation!" Dutch shouted, firing at the O'Driscolls. It wasn't the first time the camp had been attacked, and as usual their attackers made one significant mistake-they simply assumed the women had no idea how to fight and went right past them. Every one of then grabbed a gun and began firing, even Molly. It made his heart proud to see. "Keep a few of them alive!" he ordered. With a little interrogation, they could find Arthur again. Maybe their luck was turning around.

Then he saw Colm O'Driscoll, and forgot about everyone. Arthur. His own family. Even his own purpose in life. All he could see, again and again, was Annabell. All he could hear were her screams, begging Dutch to put her out of her misery because she wasn't going to survive the night anyway. Not after what Colm had done. He raised his gun, about to end the miserable bastard's life once and for all.

When suddenly, the gun was shot out of Dutch's hand. Dutch gasped in pain as the bullet also went through his hand and whirled around. Whoever did that was a crack shot. That's when he saw a literal ghost, and his strength plummeted to his knees.

It was him. Arthur. Same outfit, same hair. Same bandana covering his face. Only his eyes went straight through Dutch, seeing him only as a target. Dutch staggered backwards, as though shot again through the chest. A single breath escaped his lungs.

"Burn in hell, you rotten bastards!" Sean screamed behind him, lighting a stick of dynamite.

Duke's eyes widened in horror. He turned around to tackle Sean. "No!"

But it was far too late. The dynamite sailed through the air. And if there was any doubt that this was Arthur, it quickly died the second Arthur casually aimed his gun upwards and shot the dynamite out of the air. Back towards them.

Sean grunted as Dutch tackled him. "What the-have you completely lost your mind, Dutch?"

"Stay down!" Dutch snapped as the dynamite exploded nearby, throwing rocks and dirt everywhere. Dutch looked up, trying to peer through the cloud of smoke.

Arthur was gone.

"Retreat!" Colm shouted. "We'll be back, Dutch! This ain't over!"

"It never is!" Dutch roared after him. He tried to find Arthur, but so many horses shot past him he couldn't be sure where he was.

Still on the ground, Sean rubbed his arm as the camp grew quiet. "Whose side are you on, Dutch?" he growled.

"It was him. Arthur. I don't know how or why, but he's running with the O'Driscolls," Dutch said. As he spoke, the entire gang circled around him, whispering like a tornado.

"Arthur Morgan running with the O'Driscolls? Never!" Susan said.

"I don't believe it. Not in a million years," Hosea said.

"What the hell is going on?" Pearson demanded.

There was a solid thud as Micah slammed his knife into the wood of a nearby table. "Well…I guess we have to kill him," he said casually.

Everyone stared at him. Even Dutch.

"There are rules about this kind of thing. If any member of this gang betrays the family or gives away our camp-"

"I know the rules, Micah!" Dutch snapped, prompting the gang to fall silent.

"I hate to say it, but he's right," Hosea said grimly. "There are rules."

Dutch wrapped his bloody hand. "I have known that boy for fifteen years. I have raised him practically as a boy. And as sure as the sun rises, I know Arthur Morgan will never betray us. No, something else is going on. So we're going to find him, and bring him home. Alive."

Dutch took a deep breath. "And if he did betray us to the O'Driscolls…then I will kill him myself. But not before he tells me why. He deserves that much._ I_ deserve that much. But right now, we need a plan."

His eyes zeroed in on Kieran. He took two step forwards and grabbed Kieran's arm. "Did they see you in the camp? The O'Driscolls?"

"What?" Kieran stammered.

"Did they see you?" Dutch demanded.

Very few could withstand the full intense gaze from Dutch without flinching, even among the older members. Kieran crumbled like tissue. "No! I hid…behind the horses!"

"Good." Dutch's grip loosened. "As far as the O'Driscolls are concerned, you're still our prisoner. Now you want to earn my trust? Be a member of this camp? I want you to go to the O'Driscolls and tell them you escaped during the attack on our camp. You find out what's happening. Charles will watch your back," he added, noticing the sheer terror growing on Kieran's face.

He turned back towards the group. "You were right, Hosea. No more waiting. We find Arthur now."

TBC


	2. The heist

The next morning Dutch paced back and forth in camp. Even though Kieran hadn't been gone for that long, it now seemed like an eternity. "Where is he?" he growled.

"Easy, Dutch," Hosea said softly from the table. "They'll be back soon."

Dutch sighed, and reluctantly sat down. "I shouldn't have waited. Do you think…that's the reason why Arthur betrayed me? Because I took too long?"

"No, not at all," Hosea reassured him. "Arthur is stronger than that. He knew you were coming for him."

Dutch said nothing.

Hosea hesitated and looked down. "Dutch… why did we wait so long?"

"You know the reason," Dutch said.

Hosea didn't buy it. Not for a second. "Yeah, but-"

"Kieran's back!" Lenny shouted from his look-out post. Dutch and Hosea instantly stood and watched as both Kieran and Charles rode up. Charles appeared calm and composed as ever. Kieran looked as though he had just ran a marathon.

"Well?" Dutch demanded. "Did you find out where the camp is?"

"No," Charles said. "But we found out where they're going to be."

"I had some…friends who still felt sorry for me," Kieran said, struggling for breath. "They're going to be holding up the bank in Valentine tomorrow at noon."

"Valentine?" Karen shrieked from her tent. "Hey wait, that was my idea to rob the place! I told Arthur my plan. He stole my idea!"

Dutch raised his hand to shush her.

"Maybe not," Kieran said. "Listen-"

"Uh-huh. No way! This has got to be a trap, Dutch!" Sean protested. "We know that the O'Driscolls are swarming that town! They bought out the Sherriff and the gunsmith. Why would they rob a bank in their own town?"

Dutch considered this. "Is this a trap, O'Driscoll?" he asked Kieran softly.

Kieran raised his hands in terror. "No, wait-just listen! The O'Driscolls tried to rob a wealthy caravan a few days ago! The fellas were able to escape to Valentine and put their money in the bank. It's huge, Dutch! Like, we're talking thousands of dollars here!"

Charles nodded silently behind Dutch, indicating Kieran was telling the truth.

"Well. Looks like we just might have an opportunity here," Dutch said thoughtfully.

"You want to rob that bank?" Javier said.

"What are you thinking, Dutch?" Micah asked, suddenly invested.

Dutch rubbed his chin. "How do they plan to enter that bank?"

"Quick and quiet," Kieran said. "Like you said, the law is bought out…but my friends don't think what Colm is paying will be enough to cover things if they're discovered."

"Well, I say we make it a little loud for them," Dutch said. "And while they're recovering from that, we slip in and grab Arthur. And maybe if we can grab the money too…well, that would be the icing on the cake."

He turned towards his tent to grab some paper. "The bank heist is tomorrow, gentleman. We have that long to plan."

PART TWO

It was a Colm O'Driscoll plan, so of course things were probably going to go to hell.

Arthur leaned casually against the post outside of the general store, one hand resting on the butt of his revolver. He felt a familiar pain in his shoulder from where he had been shot two weeks ago and rubbed it a little. Lately none of Colm's plans have been working out lately. From the failed assault at the Van Der Linde Camp (which Arthur participated in with a definite lack of interest-he wasn't in the revenge business, after all) and they even failed to capture a wealthy oil tycoon (damn bear), who high-tailed it to this bank. Arthur wanted to talk about it, but Colm wasn't the type to listen to any members of his gang. On his worst days, Colm would fly off the handle and just shoot anyone who displeased him. Arthur was one of his best guns, but he knew that protection only got them so far.

For that reason, he also wasn't really attached to any other members of the gang. They all knew Colm didn't approve of backtalk, and they were all in it just for the money. Still, he liked a few of them well enough.

And of course, since concepts such as decency, manners, and charism were completely foreign to Colm, there were no females in the gang. Which was a bit of an issue, given that the first part of his plan called for a woman's distraction. Fortunately it was only a small issue, given that the saloon was right next door. A few bucks in the right hands, and they had a willing volunteer.

Arthur watched as the prostitute walked up casually to the bank. One of his other gang members, Murray, gave him a slight nod. Arthur returned it. It was time to get started.

They both waited outside the door and gave the harlot a moment to practice her drunk routine. Arthur couldn't help but grimace at her fake performance. Well, if they wanted an actress, he would have gone to St. Denis. Still, it accomplished what they needed, which was distracting the hell out of everyone else.

Himself, Murray, and another O'Driscoll entered through the front. Two more were in the back alley watching their exit. Colm himself would be watching from afar in case things went wrong. "This is a robbery, ladies and gentlemen!" Arthur said. "Stay on the ground, and no one gets hurt!"

The patrons of the bank fell to the ground in terror. Murray grabbed the keys from one and unlocked the door to the vault. Arthur entered it and could see four locked vaults with a dial combination. One of them contained thousands of dollars in cash.

"Should we blow it?" Murray asked nervously.

"Quick and quiet like Colm said. I can crack it. Just watch the front," Arthur said.

"Got it."

Arthur set a bag on the table and got to work. Even with his injured arm he was able to pop open three of them in no time at all. He had just started the last one when he heard a large explosion, and it didn't seem too far away. "What the hell was that?"

"Someone blew up the jail!" Murray yelled from the front.

"What the hell? I thought Colm wanted this to be quiet?" Arthur snapped.

"I don't know! Just shut up and get the job done! We'll hold them off!"

Arthur worked on cracking the last safe, grumbling all the way. "Can't really buy off the law if we're blowing up their whole town, now can we?" he snapped. The final safe opened with a sharp crack. He stuffed all the money into a bag. "There! Got it! Is our exit route secure?"

No answer.

"Murray!"

Still no answer. Arthur froze, and very slowly removed the gun from his hoister. He walked back towards the front.

Dutch and some Mexican man were holding the two of his gang at gunpoint. Arthur's eyes narrowed, about to shoot both of them.

"Easy," Dutch said, very softly. "I know exactly how good of a shot you are. But I promise you this-I am a better shot. And these two men will die before you can get close to me."

Both men studied each other, evaluating each other's strengths and weaknesses. "I shot your hand," Arthur pointed out.

"I can use both very well, I'm afraid." Dutch frowned. "How can you not know that?"

Arthur gestured slightly at his friends. "So you think I care about either of these two?"

Dutch's face become stone. "I truly don't know, Arthur. That's up to you."

Arthur didn't know either, given the amount of money he had in his hands. Before he could respond however, he suddenly realized someone was standing behind him. A split second later he felt a gun to the back of his head. "I'll make this easy on everybody," an old man said. "Drop the gun or I'll shoot your brains out. Now."

"Son of a…." Arthur swore and dropped his gun on the floor. _Guess the exit route is gone._

"Colm?" Dutch asked.

The old man shook his head. "He high-tailed it out of here as soon as the jail blew up."

Dutch and the Mexican knocked both gang members out with a blow to head. Then Dutch stepped forwards. "How brave of him. Well, let's see what we have here," he said, taking the bag from his hands.

"Hey!" Arthur lunged forwards and felt a crippling blow to the back of his head. He sank to his knees, not quite knocked out. _At least they haven't killed us yet._ Still, that could change at any time.

Dutch looked inside the bag and laughed. "Well, this is quite a bounty! Thank you Arthur for bringing it to us."

"You take that money and Colm will hunt you with every man that he's got," Arthur growled.

"I certainly hope he does," Dutch said.

"Law is coming, Dutch," the Mexican warned.

"Time to depart, gentleman," Dutch said.

Arthur swallowed. This was it. They were dead. If Dutch didn't shoot them now, Colm would certainly kill them later. But that's the life of an outlaw. Very few retired from it. Arthur had made peace with his death long ago.

"Hosea, would you kindly escort Arthur back to camp? We need to talk in a less…explosive environment."

"Of course."

"Wha-" was all Arthur was able to get out before he felt another crippling blow to the back of his head.

TBC


	3. Someone I don't like

OOC: Thanks Maxy93! I hsve most of this planned out, so it should move pretty fast along.

PART ONE

(Two weeks ago)

"Dutch isn't coming to save you, Arthur," Colm taunted. "You'll see."

Archer watched him go, and released a deep sigh. Finally, some peace and quiet. He glanced at the table nearby and spotted a nail file. He swung to the left and right, until he was able to grab it. In one swift move he unlocked himself from the shackles and fell to the ground.

He couldn't wait for Dutch to save him. He couldn't let him fall into a trap. At least, that's what he told himself. Inwardly though, a very small part of him was actually afraid that Colm was telling the truth, and Dutch would never rescue him.

Thankfully he didn't have a lot of time to dwell on this, as the hatch opened and an O'Driscoll walked downstairs. Quick and quiet as a shadow, Arthur made his way to the wall. When the O'Driscoll moved past him, Arthur stabbed him in the neck with a nail file. He searched the body and retrieved a gun. He quickly took care of his gunshot wound, then maneuvered upstairs. Two O'Driscolls had their backs turned to him.

"What the hell's taking so long? He's supposed to be torturing him, not telling the poor bastard his life's story-"

Damn it. His guns were too far away. Grabbing them would alert the O'Driscolls for sure. His horse was nearby at least. He would just have to come back for the guns later. "Take me home girl," he whispered, and painfully mounted the saddle.

"Hold it! He's getting away!"

Arthur rode hard as the O'Driscolls fired at him. Arthur turned and tried to fire back as far as his injured arm would let him. The gun jammed after three shots. "Stupid piece of crap-" He turned back.

And didn't see the rock cropping until it was too late. His horse hit them dead-on at full speed.

The last thing Arthur remembered was flying face-first into a tree.

Then everything in his life shattered and broke away.

PART TWO

(Now)

Arthue coughed as he woke up, lying on the back of a horse. Before he could get any sense of his bearings he was forcibly grabbed and hurled to the ground. Groaning at the pain in his head, he looked around. Oh, great. He was back in the Van Der Linde camp. By this time most of the inhabitants had approached, indicating that he was the star attraction. Some of them were glaring at him, others promising murder. The ones that looked concerned were the ones Arthur was really puzzled about.

The only exception to this was a bearded man counting the money on a table. "Three thousand and fifty-eight dollars, Dutch. We have three thousand and fifty-eight dollars!"

"Make sure everyone gets their fair share," Dutch said, staring at Arthur, who glared back at him. "I would like to say that this has been a good day. Whether or not it is still remains to be seen. Search him. Check his boots. He usually has a knife there."

Arthur was forcibly stood on his feet and searched. "If you're going to torture me, just get on with it." He had seen that happen to plenty of prisoners in Colm's camp. Had seen and been disgusted by it. He assumed the same would happen here.

Dutch gritted his teeth, as though steeling himself. "Why did you betray me, Arthur? Why did you sell me out to Colm, of all people?"

"Betray _you_?" For some reason the very idea insulted Arthur. "I don't even know you, friend. Not since yesterday."

"What are you talking about?" Dutch snapped. "Of course you know me!"

He paused at the complete lack of recognition on Arthur's face, and a few pieces fell into place. "Arthur…don't you know me?"

"By reputation. I suppose. Colm never stops talking about you," Arthur growled. "It's getting a little old, to be honest."

"He's lying. He's gotta be!" a man in the camp snapped. Arthur also had no idea who he was.

Dutch stepped forwards, searching Arthur's eyes. He barely saw a flicker of recognition in them. "What happened to you, son?"

"Maybe this explains it," Hosea said as Arthur's hat was removed to search for anything inside. "Look at his head. That injury."

"Gee, what a shock. Maybe it was because you kept hitting my head every five minutes!" Arthur snapped at him sarcastically.

"I hit the back of your head, not the front!" Hosea snapped back. "Look at his forehead. That's a new scar. Arthur…" Hosea tested his theory. "Do you remember anything before being part of Colm's gang?"

Arthur hesitated. "Not much," he admitted. "Colm said I had…hit a tree. That I been part of his gang from the beginning."

"Well he's a dirty liar," Dutch snapped, gripping his arm. "_Our_ gang, Arthur. You've been part of our gang from the beginning! And Colm took you and is trying to twist you against us!"

For the first time, Arthur looked uncertain by this.

"I don't understand," Dutch said, turning to Hosea. "Why is the head wound relevant?"

"It's called amnesia. I've heard of…some people getting strange if they're hit in the head in a certain place," Hosea explained. "They get dizzy all the time, their speech changes or they lose all of their memories. Maybe the latter is what happened to Arthur. It's at least a possibility."

Arthur raised a dismissive hand at the idea. "No…something about this theory don't seem right."

"We are family, Archer!" Dutch snapped. "Even if your memories are gone, you have to believe that in your heart."

"Here, Mister Morgan!" Susan said, handing him a photo of himself, Dutch, and Hosea. "This a picture in your tent. It doesn't get more true than this!"

Arthur studied it. "Well I guess it kind of looks like me. But it could also be fake. Yeah, like photo…chopped. Another photo sliced in. I read in a newspaper that could happen."

Dutch stared at him in disbelief. Why was Arthur fighting him on this? "Hosea, how do his memories come back?"

Hosea thought about it, but came up with nothing. "I don't know, Dutch, I truly don't. He needs a doctor."

"All right, you consult with one," Dutch said. "See if there's any weight to this…theory."

Hosea mounted his horse. "The best ones are in St. Denis, but it's about a day's ride there and back. Can you hold off on killing each other until then?"

"We'll keep him comfortable," Dutch said, but gave him an uneasy look. "But…hurry. I do not want 'Arthur O'Driscoll' in my camp longer than necessary."

"I'll hurry," Hosea said, and hesitated. "Dutch…if Arthur has truly lost his memories, then how did the Colms know where our camp is?"

Dutch frowned as that occurred to him. "That is a good question."

"Yes it is." Hosea kicked his horse a little to get it moving. "Keep your guard up."

Dutch turned back towards Arthur, who glared at him as though his mind was suddenly made up. "Don't think I'm giving any credit to this crazy 'theory' of yours, pal," Arthur said. "Colm is coming here to claim his money. If I were you I'd high-tail it out of here."

Dutch gestured, and both of them sat down at the nearby table. "Somehow I doubt that, Arthur. The Grays have no love of the O'Driscolls. I let it slip that a few were seen nearby. They're currently patrolling around the area looking for them."

"The Grays?" Arthur inquired.

"The local law around these parts," Dutch explained. "Not too bright mind you…but we have a cordial relationship. Of course, even if Colm does enter this camp, he's not coming for you, he's coming for the money. You do realize that, don't you?"

Arthur didn't respond.

"Why don't you make this better for yourself? Where is Colm's camp? We could take him out, offer you protection."

Arthur looked down and laughed. "You really think that little of me, don't you? I'm not like you, or anyone else in this camp. I don't sell out my gang."

"Oh come on!" John snapped. "The man is a liar, and a killer-"

"And none of you ain't?" Arthur retorted.

"Colm O'Driscoll is the worst of the worst, Arthur. And he cares _nothing_ about his gang," Dutch said. "You must see that. You've been there long enough. Why be loyal to him?"

Arthur shook his head. "Well, I guess it must be the principle if nothing else. Because sometimes, that's all one has." Arthur leaned forwards. "You want me to believe this crazy story. That we are somehow family. But I look at you, Dutch, and I see someone I don't like. So either kill me, or let me go. But stop wasting both of our time."

Dutch's face became cold. "Charles. Javier. Bind the hands of our 'guest' and escort him back to his tent. Keep a guard on him at all times. You're staying with us, Mister Morgan. At least for the next few days."

"O'Driscoll," Arthur snarled. "My name is an O'Driscoll."

Dutch said nothing, but it felt as though Arthur had stabbed him in the heart. Somewhere, in the back of his mind he could hear Colm O'Driscoll laughing at him.

PART THREE

Hosea rode hard and made stops until he reached St. Denis. "We're getting too old for this girl." He wiped the mud from his jacket and entered the doctor's office.

"Can I help you?" the doctor asked politely.

"Yes, my good sir. My name is Francis Cornwell. I was hoping you can lend your advice on an issue we have been having. My friend, you see, has hit his head pretty hard and seemed to has lost his memories. Amnesia, I believe it's called."

"A powerful affliction, sir. You have my sympathies."

"You've seen it before?"

"Quite a few times. It seems to be a growing problem. Cowboys not driving their horses straight, others surviving a bullet to the head. Even some of the people here are struck by it. City workers falling off scaffolding and what not."

"And is there…a cure for this affliction?"

"Give your friend enough time, and rest, and he might snap out of it in a year or so."

"A year…" Hosea shook his head. "That's not going to work for us, I'm afraid." At the Doctor's inquiring look he added, "We are a travelling band of performers, you see. It can be difficult enough to set everything up without having to worry about one of our members wandering off from camp everyday. Is there no other option? Some medicine you can give him to speed things up?"

"Not from me," the Doctor stood from his chair. "But we do have a bottle of medicine imported from Asia. Fella with a head injury took it, was right as rain the next day."

"And this…cures amnesia?" Hosea asked.

"Well, they claim it's a 'cure-all' which can take care of any problem or disease. But I haven't heard of any complaints. I should warn you, though. As a travelling performer the cost might be out of your price range." He gestured at the bottle.

Hosea chuckled. "My dear sir, I can assure you our performances are very popular." He glanced at the green bottle, then at the price tag.

$3,057 dollars.

"Well…shit," Hosea said.

TBC.


	4. Money on the table

OOC: Thanks Maxy93! Trouble is certainly still on the horizon lol :)

As dusk settled in Arthur struggled against the ropes without much luck. They were snug tight and it would have been especially pointless under Charles' nearby watchful gaze. With a sigh and a grumble he tried to make himself as comfortable as possible on his cot.

Under Dutch's orders, the rest of the camp kept a respectful distance but gave him plenty of curious whispers. It irritated the hell out of Arthur. He didn't like being talked about like he was some kind of animal at the zoo.

"Arthur?" A girl said meekly. He thought her name was Mary-Beth. "Do you want to talk?"

"If I wanted to talk to some skirt, I'll go to a brothel. Now get!" Arthur snapped at her, and she scurried off.

"Watch your mouth," Charles ordered. "You keep acting like an O'Driscoll and I'll start treating you like one. Believe me, you wouldn't want that."

Arthur sighed and glanced at the trinkets on his table, his 'personal belongings' that sparked no connection. He stood. Charles automatically tensed.

"Calm down," Arthur snapped. "I just want something to eat, then I'm turning in." It was a bit awkward with his hands tied up in front of him, but he managed to grab a plate of stew.

"You're a fool."

Annoyed, Arthur looked up at the skinny fellow. Kieran…was that his name?

Kieran pointed to him. "You're a fool, Arthur Morgan!"

"Kid, the only fool I see is the one trying to talk to me," Arthur growled. Naturally, Charles was on high alert by this.

"Stop talking to him," Charles ordered Kieran.

Surprisingly, Kieran defied him. "No, I was one too. An O'Driscoll! Didn't Colm mention me?"

"Can't say it came up," Arthur said dismissively.

"You saw!" Kieran snapped. "You were in the camp too! There's a reason why there's no women in that camp, no sir! Because no women could live in that place for long!"

"Enough," Charles ordered.

"You saw what he did to prisoners!" Kieran shouted. "You heard the screams, just like I did! And every night I pray to God I could get those screams out of my head, but I can't! You want to say you're an O'Driscoll, that's fine! But don't you dare sit here and say that this place is just like the O'Driscolls, because it ain't. Because there are no screams like that in this camp. And every day I am thankful to be here. For the first time in a long while, I am able to sleep without being afraid. That's why I am calling you a fool, Arthur Morgan. An even bigger fool than me."

Everyone froze to listen. Even Dutch looked up from his reading.

Before Arthur could reply, they could hear the unmistakeable sound of a horse approaching.

"Hosea!" Lenny called out.

Dutch closed his book. "Maybe now we'll get some answers."

PART TWO

The news that Hosea brought wasn't good.

"Can't we just rob the damn place?" John snapped.

"I wish, but that doesn't seem very feasible," Hosea said. "Think about it. We have Arthur who wants to go on a rampage in the camp. We have the O'Driscolls waiting for the right moment to attack us. Not to mention the Braithwaits and the Pinkertons and anyone else with a grudge. If we start causing trouble in St. Denis our resources couldn't take the strain. In that kind of city, we would need a full crew to commit a robbery and get out of that place alive. We don't have that."

"And this…medicine from Asia can help Arthur?" Dutch said.

"According to the doctor, yes. But it would take all the money from the bank heist to do it. Save for a dollar."

"A dollar," John echoed. "A stinking _dollar_."

Dutch was silent for a moment and glanced at Arthur, who was well out of earshot. "We divided that money among the members of the camp…so it should be a camp decision. I know what my decision is." He placed his portion of the money on the table.

Hosea took out his money and put it on the table. "Money can be replaced. Family can't."

"Arthur saved my life more than once," Charles said, doing the same.

"Yes," Javier agreed.

John did nothing.

"John?" Dutch asked. "What is your decision?"

With a sign John dug into his pocket and placed his portion on the table. "It ain' t fair, Dutch."

"I know," Dutch agreed. "Sometimes we are fools of fortune."

The rest of the camp followed suit, except for Micah. Dutch briefly considered having to cover the rest from the camp funds. But surprisingly, Micah easily put his money on the table.

"I expected more of a fight from you on this," Hosea muttered.

"Why?" Micah asked. "Arthur is my brother. I want him to be well."

"Then let's end his suffering and this little game Colm is playing at our expense. Hosea, get some rest. And at first light, get the medicine," Dutch ordered.

PART THREE

Micah wasn't a bad man, truly. But Dutch' s camp had become…bloated. Full of weakness. Dutch had a bad habit of picking up every stray along the side of the road. Some pulled their weight. Others, like the drunk priest, did not. It was time to trim the fat. Get rid of a few members.

So when he had told Colm the location of Dutch's camp, both had agreed that Dutch himself would live, along with the majority of the camp. They would simply get rid of a few weaker members. Make Dutch harder for the experience. Colm of course had jumped at the opportunity to humiliate Dutch by invading his own camp. But he had underestimated them. Never ignore the women. Micah had told him that!

And now this situation was developing. Micah had told Colm to just killed Arthur and be done with it. Far from weak, Arthur was the exact opposite-he was too dangerous to be around for much longer. But Colm had found the idea of Arthur Morgan running with the O'Driscolls hilarious and wanted to wave it in front of Dutch's face for as long as he could. Well, whatever. Micah hadn't cared too much at first.

Until the money got involved. And come hell or high water, that money was not leaving this camp. Micah poured a cup of coffee and casually walked over to where Kieran was keeping watch. By this time, most of the camp was asleep. He gestured at Morgan. "How is he?"

"Asleep, thankfully," Kieran said. That much was true, judging by the man's snoring.

Micah offered Kieran the coffee. "I can see this situation being a little strange for you."

"Yeah," Kieran admitted. "I spent all this time insisting I'm not an O'Driscoll. And now I have to convince someone else of it too."

"Well you've been pulling your weight. The camp and I have been really noticing."

"Really?" Kieran grinned as he drank the coffee. "Thanks."

"Yeah," Micah said. "It would take something really bad for you to fall out of our good graces."

The coffee cup fell with a thud. Kieran slumped in his chair.

Casually, Micah tossed away the rest of the herb-laced coffee. "Like sleeping on the job." Still grinning, he took out his knife. "Wake up, cowpoke. You've got work to do."

TBC


	5. Anger issues

Arthur opened his eyes as someone scurried away. It was too dark to see who. Kieran was slumped over in his chair. A knife had been stabbed in his table. No one else seemed to be around.

Arthur stared at it. _This was too easy._ Still, he couldn't look a gift horse in the mouth. He set to work untying his hands. Once they were free, he took the knife and very quietly stood.

It was late. Everyone was asleep as far as he could tell. Arthur walked past a tent with a sleeping family inside, including a little boy. The thought of a child being involved in this disturbed him, but he couldn't dwell on it for too long. Hosea's tent was just ahead.

Arthur glanced around for the money, before spotting a satchel in the old man's sleeping hands. _Okay, can't risk a gunshot._ One stab through the heart. Quick and quiet.

Except…for some reason he was hesitating.

_Come on, Arthur. You've done far worse. He's pushing…what? Eighty? A hundred? He' s pretty much gone already. Do it. Right now!_ He ordered himself.

He still couldn't move. _Okay…one light tap against the head then. Knock him out. It's more than what he deserves for what he did. That won't kill him. Probably._

Nothing. He wanted to move, but it felt like he was frozen.

_What the hell is wrong with you, Arthur?_ He snapped at himself. _Someone's going to wake up at any time! Just kill him already! _He leaned forwards, knife in hand.

Suddenly….

_Thirteen-year-old Arthur was sitting on the dock, watching Hosea fish. "Why do I have to learn how to read?" he asked. "Why can't I fish?"_

_Hosea chuckled. "Oh my dear boy. Anyone can fish. Hunt. Kill. But it takes a rare breed to find someone who can read. A man who can think separates him from being a thug."_

Arthur's hand drew back from the unexpected memory, as though stung. What the hell was that? He didn't even want to think about it.

He studied the satchel and his heart sank as he thought more about it. It was a lot of money, sure, but it was tainted. If he took it neither Colm or Dutch would rest until he was hunted down. He suppose he could give it back to Colm as a peace offering, and probably live through it, but did he really want that? This war between Colm and Dutch kept escalating and had no profit in it at all. Arthur didn't like these people, but didn't want to see the women or child shot over it. Arthur liked things simple, and he didn't ask to be dragged into some goddam war.

No, it was best to make a clean break for it. Commit his own robberies, and not share the profits with anyone. That sounded real nice. And maybe start his own gang one day with people he could trust. He was smart enough for it.

Arthur turned and quickly left the camp, stopping only to grab a gun from the table on the way out.

PART TWO

Micah woke from a light doze by people shouting. With a small grin he stood and walked over to the chaos happening at Morgan's tent.

"Where did he go?" Dutch snapped at Kieran.

"I swear, I don't know!" Kieran said. The poor young man was being held in John's arms. "Honest!"

Micah turned around and did a quick headcount. To his surprise, everyone was still alive. _Disappointed, Morgan…._he fully expected the man to kill at least one of them, losing all of Dutch's goodwill and desire to save him in one swift move. "What happened?" he asked.

"This idiot fell asleep while watching Arthur!" John explained. "Now he's run off. Probably back to Colm's camp."

"The money!" Dutch turned around. "Hosea, is the money gone?"

"No, it's still here," Hosea said, digging around in his bag. "Every dollar."

_What_? Now Micah was shocked. Was Morgan so stupid he forget about the money? At least in Colm's hands it would have been better than some…snake salesman. He focused his rage at the situation on Kieran. "How could you do this?" he snapped. "Arthur was the one who convinced us all to keep you around, and your beauty sleep was more important then helping him?"

Kieran's eyes brimmed with tears.

"Or maybe it wasn't an accident," John snarled. "Maybe once an O'Driscoll, always an O'Driscoll."

"No! It's not like that! I screwed up, but it wasn't like that I swear!"

Micah raised his gun. "Let's just deal with this problem right now."

Dutch was indecisive, thinking back to what Kieran had done before. Finally he gave them an irritated gesture. "I don't want to deal with this right now. Tie him up to a tree. I'll figure out his fate when and _if _we find Arthur."

"No!" Kieran sobbed as John dragged him towards a tree.

"Yes, a tree!" John snapped at him. "Should feel like home to you, shouldn't it?"

"Hosea," Dutch ordered. "Ride to St. Denis."

"Boss…" Micah began hesitantly. "Maybe we should think about this. For all we know this doctor is a snake's salesman. It's an awful lot of money for something we're not sure will work."

"Enough, Micah. We all agreed on this. We have to try," Dutch snapped as Charles approached.

"I told you we should have broken one of his legs," Charles said.

Dutch ignored that. "What have you found?"

"Fresh horse tracks lead out of the camp. Can't be more than a couple hours old. I can track it. Bring him back."

"Good. Find him before he gets back to Colm's camp. Lenny, back him up."

Micah watched them mount up. Angrily he headed back towards his tent. When things had calmed down a little, he would race as fast as he could to Colm's camp. Hosea had a long ride ahead of him still. It was a shame that he would suffer 'an accident.'

PART THREE

Lenny and Charles rode hard, Charles only stopping now and then to look at the trail. "He's trying to ride in the stream," Charles mentioned.

"But…you can still track him, right?"

Charles grunted an affirmative. "The path is still pretty easy to follow. He only thinks he's being clever."

"Sounds like Arthur all right," Lenny said, and Charles chuckled. "Why do you suppose he didn't take the money?"

"I don't know. I don't think he's going back to Colm's camp either. This trail goes towards the shoreline. It would be a bad place to hide a camp." He kicked his horse a little. "Come on and be quiet. We're getting close."

Lenny kept silent as they approached a single campsite near the shore that appeared to be empty. It was next to some trees. The trail ended here. Charles swallowed. All of his instincts told him that Arthur knew they were here. "Scout around," he ordered Lenny, who rode off silently.

Charles dismounted, and walked over to the campsite. Whoever it was recently had breakfast. An empty and washed pan was near the fire. Charles touched it. Ambers were still warm.

He suddenly heard a dry click from the trees.

"Hello Charles," Arthur said, pointing a gun right at him.

"Hello Arthur," Charles returned.

There was a tense moment of silence.

"Guess it would have been nice to remember there was a tracker in the camp," Arthur said.

"Yes," Charles agreed. The two of them started to circle around each other. "Your mistake."

"I didn't take any of that money."

"I know."

"Colm and Dutch can kill each other over it for I care. I' m cutting myself loose from both. So you can understand that I want to be left alone."

Charles looked away, and sighed. "Well, I can't do that either, Arthur. I can understand feeling like you don't belong. But living under Dutch is much more than just some feud with Colm. We're a family. There are more than twenty of us, and you made a promise to protect them. I think you still remember that promise."

"I told you, leave me alone," Arthur growled. His back was now to the campsite.

'You had plenty of chances to kill us. You could have shot Dutch during the raid through the head. You could have killed Hosea last night, or at least taken the money. You must have had a dozen opportunities to kill any one of us. But you didn't."

"You really want to test that theory out on me?" Arthur threatened.

"No. Not really," Charles admitted, stepping forwards. "But I think you can remember, if you want to. Something is stopping you. A block. You told Dutch you didn't like him. I know you're angry with him, and with good reason. When you were captured…we should have gone after you. Instead Dutch waited for far too long."

Despite himself, Arthur frowned. "Why didn't he come after me?"

"I don't know," Charles said. "But I know he threw away all that money to try and help you. You see, that promise extends to you. You're family. You're my brother. So think, Arthur. Try to remember."

Arthur tried. For the first time he fought past the anger and betrayal he felt at Dutch. A red cloud that had been keeping him from thinking straight. He tore through that cloud.

And_ finally_ remembered everything. Dutch. Hosea. Charles. All of them.

Arthur blinked, trying to process all of this. "Charles, I-"

"I've got him, Charles!" Lenny screamed.

Arthur turned around. "Wha-"

SLAM! Lenny hit his head with the frying pan near the fire.

"Ow! What is it with you morons hitting my head all the time!" Arthur snapped, falling to the ground. "You're lucky I can still remember you, let alone see straight."

"Arthur?" Charles asked cautiously.

"Yep. I remember." Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "So what were you saying about Dutch throwing away his money for me?"

OOC: Next chapter is the epilogue.


	6. Epilogue

OOC: Thanks again so much for the reviews, Maxy93 and Littlfluffydino13! They always motivate me to writee and keep me on track. I'm glad you enjoyed this!

PART ONE

Arthur rode hard and fast, cursing a blue streak along the way. "I leave for two goddam weeks and Dutch is taken in by the first shady salesman who promises him for a cure for everything….if that's what he wanted, I would have broken Benedict Allbright out of prison myself and invited him to pure his poison down my throat!" They could hear between gallops.

"Arthur wait!" Charles said. "I get you're angry, but can you just slow down?"

"No, Charles, I can't!" Arthur said, reluctantly stopping. "Colm's been playing us like a fiddle since we got to Rhodes. It wasn't a coincidence I was able to escape last night. Colm set that up!"

Lenny's eyes widened. "Are you saying there's a rat inside camp?"

"Maybe. Or the Grays are involved. Either way, I guarantee you they know Hosea is out there, alone, and the best guns in the camp spent all day chasing after me."

Charles understood. "We need to get back. Now."

PART TWO

Colm O'Driscoll was done with this.

As soon as Micah told him the money was gone, Colm had sent his two best horsemen to get the money back. At the same time though, Dutch's camp was fragmented. Vulnerable. The perfect time to strike. The Grays would be no bother. He got along with both families over the years. Inbreds and racists were his type of crowd after all, and Colm had never tried to play them off each other. A quick conversation with both families helped them see what Dutch and his band of friends was doing.

He crouched low, signalling. All of the Van Der Linde gang was going to die tonight. Dutch. Arthur. Even Micah, the little worm, who had outlived his usefulness. They night spare a woman or two for entertainment tonight, but that was about it.

They got to cover, and began firing.

PART THREE

"Shit!" Arthur snapped as they heard firing near their camp. "You got anything better than this peashooter?"

Charlie took out a rifle. "In case you tried to run when we caught up," he said, his face completely serious.

"Jesus..good thing I didn't do that." They dismounted and slowly climbed up the hill. Colm's gang was more cautious this time around. Rather than charging in they had fortified themselves pretty well. Dutch and the rest were doing well but were outnumbered.

Unfortunately for Colm, his back was to Arthur. As was the entire gang.

Arthur lifted the rifle. "Let's finish things once and for all."

PART FOUR

"Keep firing! We can beat them!" Dutch encouraged, firing.

Suddenly Javier drew back, fresh blood on his sleeve. "Just a scratch! I'm Okay!"

Dutch ducked behind his wagon. They needed a plan, anything! Surprisingly he heard a lot of Colm's men screaming right now. "This is getting so tiresome, Colm! Why don't we end this in a draw, you and me?"

The gunfire was suddenly silent. "Oh I'm sure Colm would have loved to accommodate you, Dutch, but I just shot out both his legs," Arthur said, walking towards him.

Dutch's eyes widened in astonishment. "Arthur. You're back. And whole."

"Fit as a fiddle, thanks to Charles," Arthur replied. By this time, all of the O'Driscoll's men were dead or running.

Dutch stepped forwards. "Arthur, I-"

"Save it," Arthur said, but not ungently. "At least for now. I think there's something more important you need to take care of."

"Agreed," Dutch looked up as Javier and Charles dragged the crippled Colm O'Driscoll in front of him. "Miss Adler?"

"Yes, Dutch?" the feisty blond female replied.

"How about we deal with this trash once and for all?"

"Glad too." Both of them took out their guns. "This is for my family, you son of a bitch."

Colm's eyes widened as their gunshots obliterated him.

"Now this," Dutch said. "This has been a good day. Javier, please dispose of the body off a cliff. Somewhere the birds will have a nice feast."

"You got it."

Suddenly a horse galloped into view. "I have it, everyone!" Hosea shouted triumphantly. "Don't worry Arthur we'll save you!"

"How did you get here so fast by horse?" Arthur wondered out loud.

"I didn't use a horse most of the way," Hosea said.

"We…scraped together some money to buy a train ticket," Dutch explained. "Still, I'm afraid you've came a bit late, Hosea. Arthur's memories have returned. Seems all he needed was a little 'pep talk' from Charles."

"Hey, even without my memories I would have seen a snake salesman from miles away, Dutch," Arthur said, laughing a little as he studied the green bottle. "A cure all for everything, huh? I suppose we can try it the next time someone has a rash or a toothache."

"At least Colm doesn't have the money," Hosea said.

"Or his life," Dutch agreed.

"Speaking of O'Driscolls, why is poor Kieran tied to a tree? Yeesh, I'm gone for two weeks and it's everyone else who have lost their goddam minds!" Arthur said.

PART FIVE

That night, the gang had plenty to celebrate. They still had moonshine from a previous job and broke it open. A few hours later everyone was getting comfortably drunk. Javier was playing a song. Arthur watched a few of dance from a fair distance away, beer in hand.

"Glad to see you're back, Cowpoke," Micah said, slithering up behind him.

"Where's your knife?" Arthur asked.

Micah frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You see, I got this crazy theory, Micah. I am thinking someone freed me from camp, intentionally. It was almost like they wanted me to escape. Maybe cause some chaos on the way out. And I could have sworn I heard someone talking as I woke up. I'm thinking that was you."

"Well, that is one interesting story, Morgan. I sure hope you have some proof to back it up. Otherwise, it's just your word against mine. And I don't think Dutch is too keen on believing the word of a man who's brain has been scrambled for the last two weeks." Micah grinned and toasted him. "Even if he is the favorite son returned."

Arthur said nothing.

"Didn't think so." Micah turned to go. "Oh, and my knife? Lost in the belly of some O'Driscoll during the fight. Plenty of people saw me fight them, Morgan. Ask them if you have too. Unlike you, I didn't forget where my loyalties are."

Arthur watched him go, before focusing on Dutch sitting by himself at the table. He went over to join him.

"You and Micah fighting again?" Dutch asked.

"Yep."

"What about?"

"Nothing much. The usual."

Dutch laughed. "It's good to see everything's back to normal, I suppose."

For a moment they watch the gang celebrate. "Hell of a party," Arthur said.

"I do believe we throw the best," Dutch said. "And I like I said, there is plenty to celebrate. The end of the O'Driscolls. Getting you back."

"We lost the money," Arthur pointed out.

"Money can be replaced." Dutch stood. "Well, I think I'll turn in before Miss O'Shea starts to look for me-"

Arthur frowned. "Dutch…you were coming for me, right? While I was in the O'Driscoll camp?"

Dutch's face softened. "Of course, Arthur. As surely as you would come for me." He gripped Arthur's shoulder. "There were...complications. But I never lost sight of finding you everyday. And I swear to this, Arthur, we were looking, and we wouldn't rest until we found you."

Arthur smiled, his previous worries dismissed. "Okay, Dutch."

The two clinked their bottles, both completely unaware of a growing poison inside both of them. For Arthur it was physical, a nasty disease branching out into his lungs with each breath. For Dutch, it was different. A voice whispering in his mind by the name of Micah. It was Micah of course, who had convinced Dutch to wait and save Arthur. Not that Dutch planned to ever tell Arthur that. The two of them were already fighting as it was. But each day Micah whispered in his ear, a little bit more doubt and cowardice grew in Dutch, which had surely started in Blackwater if not earlier.

But for now, the two simply enjoyed each other's company.

"Goodnight, 'Arthur O'Driscoll'," Dutch said, smiling.

"Don't remind me. Goodnight," Arthur said with a chuckle, and went over to join Kieran and Mary-Beth.

An hour later, Arthur struggled back to his own tent. He picked up the green medicine bottle, and chuckled as he read the English portion of the label. "Able to cure any ailment or disease…yeah, right. Bunch of fools they are."

Arthur put the bottle on the table next to his cot and turned in. Before he went to sleep, a small smile touched his lips.

"But they're my fools.'

THE END


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